Parking Like A Bitch

This morning I pulled out my monthly parking receipt, felt like I was raped, and called their office.

“Good morning Mark, I am curious to know why we all of a sudden have assigned stalls in the Bellevue lot and how did the assignments come about? Was it a lotto? Was it based on seniority? Because I’ve been parking there for years yet I ended up with the last and furthest stall #21. So Mark, honey, what do Iiiiii need to do to get this changed?”

Hey, don’t judge me. Men choose parking spots in empty zones and will walk half a mile or will only park next to luxury cars. Women will drive around and around until we get that spot close enough to where our shoes get the least mileage added to them. We will squeeze in a spot and make our friends squeeze out the car (hold your breath bitches and suck that pouch in). So where I park 5 days a week and walk to and fro twice a day (IN THESE HEELS!) is considered a long term investment. I don’t know exactly how far I’d go to get a better parking spot but I am willing to weigh my options on the table!

Mark giggles and says, “Well what happened is that we opened up an office right there so we started using that lot for our executive staff. We booted every paying monthly parker off the lot and only had 3 spots leftover, which we held for parkers based on seniority. If you got stall #21, that means you JUST made the cut off.”

“Oh well in that case, Mark, I am very happy to have a spot. Have a lovely weekend!”

***shaking head***

I guess sometimes you just have to know when to fold the cards. Can't win them all.